Reign With You
by brie3887
Summary: Immediately following Mary's imprisonment in the tower, she and Francis face King Henry's verbal wrath. His words bring them together, and they are able to "discuss" the feelings surrounding the tower incident and impending war.


**A/N This was written following the promo for episode 1x19. When I watched the promo, I was taken aback by Henry's tirade against Mary, especially concerning her lack of pregnancy. I wanted to use that to bring her and Francis back together. I did not expect so much time to pass between the tower scene and when Henry decides to go to war. So there are differences between what actually occurred and what I have written. We never really saw a scene where Mary and Francis talk about how it felt for her to be in the tower, and that was something I also wanted to explore. Also, in the episode Mary fights back against Henry's words, but in my story she is meeker. I hope you enjoy, and reviews are always welcome! **

Even with the sun shining Greer could still feel the furious tension. She was braiding Mary's hair and helping her dress for the day. Mary was so irritated she had dismissed all of her servants in a huff. Greer chose to step up and help her. When she had arrived, Mary was facing her armoire throwing clothes every which way. It had taken a few moments to get her calmed down enough to be dressed.

She pulled the strands back off of Mary's face and adjusted the delicate braid. She placed Mary's tiara on her head stepping back to view her in the mirror. "There you are," She said with a smile. "Beautiful as ever." Mary didn't respond. "Mary." Greer whined. She finally looked at her friend. "You can't say he didn't do it in love." She urged, hoping it wasn't too much.

"Greer," Mary started sternly. "it was a tower." The words were firmly pronounced. "A dark, disgusting, dripping tower. What husband leaves his wife in a tower?" Mary's heart rate picked up again.

"I know. I know. And you're angry –"The door opened to reveal Francis. Mary turned her attention back to her dressing table ignoring him.

"Good morning Greer." Greer curtseyed and left the room sensing Francis's signal. "Good morning, Mary." He slowly approached her. He noticed the clothes strewn about and carefully stepped over a shoe in his pathway. "Have trouble getting dressed this morning?" He asked looking around. "I heard you sent your servants out."

"Did you?" She asked. "Did you hear that I threw that necklace you gave me too? Or perhaps that I broke the vase you bought me in Paris?" She asked icily. She put her earrings on without acknowledging him. He shook his head with a smirk.

"Clearly, you have not calmed down." His hands were folded behind his back. She pursed her lips and furiously moved in her chair, twisting her body to stand up and face him. He saw her anger, and a part of him wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked when she was mad.

"You locked me in a tower!" She yelled clenching her teeth.

"I remember," He responded quietly.

"What do you even want?" She asked turning back around the gather her rings.

"My father requests our presence," He returned. She straightened her back and looked at herself one more time in the mirror before turning around. Francis held a hand out for her to take, but she brushed right past him. To her, he didn't need to hold her hand. He didn't to do anything anymore.

They stood before the king as he anxiously paced in the room. His one hand massaged his temple, and the other was clenched in a fist at his side. It wasn't the first time Mary had feared him; she knew what he was capable of. But now it was worse, even more dangerous. He was crazy.

"I have made a very big decision, one that will seal France's fate." His index finger was outstretched pointing toward something at the ceiling. His voice was booming and strained. To Francis, he appeared angry, agitated. "You see, YOU," he put emphasis and pointed directly at Mary. "Are supposed to bring me England." His hands went out at his sides. "But instead all you have done is bleed money from my country."

"But – " Mary protested.

"NO!" He shouted. Mary flinched. "You've been nothing but a bad business deal from the start. Even your own mother sells you out."

"Henry!" Catherine breathed out.

"Be quiet!" He commanded. He growled and looked away. "Are you even pregnant?" He petulantly questioned. Mary's hand found her abdomen involuntarily, protecting something that wasn't even there. A slow ache built in her belly and her heart for what she couldn't seem to create. "Could you at least provide an heir for France? Isn't that what women are good at?" She dropped her head, ashamed of her inability to become with child. Henry quickly advanced toward Mary to continue his assault. "Could you be any more useless to France?" Francis blocked his father's path to Mary.

"That is enough! You will not speak to my wife that way," Francis interjected sternly. The king chuckled and sneered at his son, stepping back. He turned suddenly to face his son.

"Perhaps it is you who is the problem. Maybe you cannot control your wife or satisfy her," He taunted.

"Henry!" Catherine gasped. He suddenly twitched and stopped gathering his thoughts.

"So, my decision is to put the old bat off the throne myself. We will go to war with England and I will claim it." Before they could respond, he strode out of the room leaving the three with their mouths open.

"This is madness," Catherin started.

"Yes, it is. We will lose," Francis added. They seemed to forget Mary, whose head was now bowed and her hand still rested on her abdomen.

"Please excuse me," She said quietly, barely looking up. She hurried out of the room. Francis looked at his mother who beckoned him to follow. She hurried quickly down the corridors to her room, holding back her tears. The emotions inside her were both of fury and sadness. She was hurt by her mother, by the system that bartered for a queen.

"Mary?" Francis called after her, but she did not stop. She had no intention of speaking to him. He locked her up in a tower; he was just like them. But he followed her into her chambers and closed the door behind them. "Are you alright?" He should've never asked, he knew she wasn't. "I'm sorry for my father's verbal tirade against you. It-"

"Stop!" She turned around, her cheeks wet. "Don't. Everyone wants something from me! I'm nothing, but a product to buy and sell!"

"That is not true," He said softly. He reached out to her, but she shrunk away.

"Yes, it is. I'm here to give England to your father, money for my mother, a source of abuse for yours!" She paused. "And you need an heir."

"Is that why you think I married you?" He shot back.

"You locked me in a tower! You prevented me from helping my country!"

"To protect you!" He countered.

"I don't believe you," She yelled.

"That hurts my heart," He said angrily. He stepped toward her. "It hurts that you think I only want you for an heir or for France." He took deep breath trying to calm down "If that is what you truly believe than you have forgotten that I love you." He pushed his hair off his forehead. "Which I do. I do love you! And I would do anything, kill any amount of men, be tortured, die, or yes, lock you in a tower to protect you! Over and over and over! Because I need you as my wife because I need you – not France, not Scotland, me, Francis! I love you." Her head dropped. "What you said cuts me like glass. We have a choice to make. We must choose our marriage or choose our countries. I don't want to live without you because it doesn't make sense; my decision is made. But you have to make a decision." He sighed and left her.

* * *

As soon as she was noticed, the advisers surrounding Francis quieted and bowed. Francis looked up to see Mary before him. Their eyes locked for a moment and then he looked away.

"Would you give us a moment?" The men nodded and exited the room. Mary watched them and then slowly approached her husband, who had gone back to the large map on the table before her.

"Is this the plan to invade England?" She inquired running her fingertips along the edge of the map. She noticed the outlines of the borders of their countries, specific plotted points, and the figures of soldiers to show movement.

"Yes." He didn't look at her; he just kept his eyes on the map. She continued to study the map. When she wasn't looking, he glanced at her to study her face. It was tired from crying, the puffiness around her eyes could not be concealed. But now her brow was tight, and he wondered what million questions she was preparing to ask.

"Will it work?"

"No, I'm afraid many men will die. We may lose France and even possibly Scotland." Mary's eyes grew wide. "I won't let it happen." He wasn't looking at her. "If we lose France it will be my fault."

"You? You're going?" She stepped closer to him. "Not Henry?"

"My father is mad Mary. I must lead these men into battle as if I were their king."

"But…no." She whispered looking at the map. "It isn't safe." Francis swallowed and looked at her finally, their eyes met again for the second time. She stepped close to his side, her hands gently clasping his arm. "Francis." She said looking at him trying to read him. He looked down at her upturned eyes. "I'm sorry for hurting you." She paused, he felt her fingers clench tighter around his arm. "I know you love me, and I know you did this to protect me. I do want us to be strong leaders together." She turned him gently so they faced each other. "Francis, I need you too." There were the tears again. He grabbed her and pulled her tightly to him, his arms wrapping around her body. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for not trusting you. I'm sorry." She whispered as she cried. He affirmed and reassured her with his hold. He pulled her away from him.

"Mary we will make it. I will make it through battle to return to you." Her hand went to his face.

"Should I lock you in a tower?" She asked with a small smile. He grinned.

"Only if you will be there too." He kissed her pulling her once again tight to his frame. "I don't ever want to let you go."


End file.
